Jean-Paul Sartre walks into a bar

Sartre walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Hey, Jean-Paul, what's happenin'? Can I get you a beer?" Sartre says, "I think not." Then he disappears.

Yeah, that kinda sucked.

On Saturday, I called my mom on the telephone. I told her about poker the night before, and mentioned how annoying our host was. First, a word about him. He's (allegedly) had a girlfriend for a few years, but they've decided to stay celebate until marriage (or maybe longer). If you'll permit me to analyze him for a second, I believe he suffered some kind of parental trauma when he was very young (possibly related to a strict Christian upbringing) that has caused him to become stuck in Freud's anal phase (not that I know what that means). Basically, everything turns into one big, obnoxious gay joke.

So, I explained this to my mom, and said that I needed to: a) forceably remove him from my social circle or b) stop hanging around him. My mom agreed that was probably a good idea. We talked a little while longer, and then she hung up. I sat down at my computer, and got a *DING* from AIM. In what is quickly becoming a weekly ritual, Michelle (my old roommate/BillKells significant other) suggested I come hang out in Delaware. While I was debating making the 2 1/2-hour trek, my mom called me back.

"Mark," she said, "I just wanted to add something. One thing I've lived by that has served me well is that you shouldn't hang out with people who make you feel bad. ...Let me rephrase that in a more positive light... You should be around people who make you feel good."

Well, that made my Saturday night plans an easy call. And I had a hell of a good time. Moms, you gotta love 'em.